


dream smp oneshot requests !!

by samslunchables



Category: DSMP - Fandom, Dream SMP - Fandom, DreamSMP, Minecraft - Fandom
Genre: /rp, Abuse, Angst, Canon Relationships, DSMP, Dream Smp, DreamSMP - Freeform, Dysphoria, Emotional Abuse, Emotions, Fainting, Fluff, Foster Care, Foster Care System, Found Family, Gender Dysphoria, Hurt/Comfort, Karl Jacobs - Freeform, Karlnapity, M/M, No Smut, Not real life, Oneshot, Physical Abuse, Platonic Relationships, Polyamory, Polyamory Relationship, Protective Karl Jacobs, Protective Sapnap, Quackity - Freeform, Quackity is sad, Schlatt - Freeform, Sleepy Bois Inc Fluff, Swearing, TechnoBlade, Tommy gets adopted, Tommy has trauma, TommyInnit - Freeform, Trans Male Character, Trans Quackity, Wilbur Soot - Freeform, Wilbur and techno are good brothers, abused quackity, abusive Schlatt, abusive foster care parents, all shipping is strictly canon ships, and when i write ship requests its only dsmp rp, any irl fic requests will be done but with an acception, badboyhalo calls people muffin, breakdowns, cause thats just what he does, dont be gross - Freeform, i will still write irl fics ofc, idk how to tag, if the ccs say this stuff makes them uncomfy ill delete it in a heart beat, im not gonna write weird shit, its mcyt what did you expect, literally theyre all good brothers, mlm, nice schlatt, nihachu is tommy's caregiver before he gets adopted by sbi, oneshot requests, oneshots, orphan Tommy, philza - Freeform, philza is a good dad, philza loves his kids, please read the rules for the requests, sapnap - Freeform, sbi, sbi fluff - Freeform, sbi is strictly platonic, schlatt is a good boyfriend /dsmp, sleepy bois inc - Freeform, techno is just tired, the foster care system is shit, this is only canon ships, tommy binds for too long, tommy just wants a hug, tommyinnit is trans, touch starved quackity, trans male quackity, unsafe binding, why are the characters in the shipping tag like that, wilbur is a good brother, wilbur is understanding, wilbur's love language is touch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 15:33:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29528547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samslunchables/pseuds/samslunchables
Summary: requests are open !! please read the rules and my preferences before suggesting anything. thank you ! :)
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity/Karl Jacobs/Sapnap, Quackity & Badboyhalo, Quackity & Karl Jacobs, Quackity/Schlatt
Comments: 36
Kudos: 204





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> please leave your requests in the comments !!

hello everyone !

i decided to write some dream smp oneshots ! :)

i take requests ( that's kinda the point, duh ) , so please comment !

what i won't do:

smut

any ships that the ccs arent comfy with

no minor ships. dont be disgusting.

rape

pedophilia

what i will do:

platonic stuff !!

basically any canon ship ,,

fluff

angst

pretty much anything, besides what i said i wouldnt do ( obviously ) !! :)

please request !! <3

( also , if its discovered that any of the people i end up writing about arent comfortable with fanfiction in general, ill delete it !! pls notify me if you hear about something like that , itd be very much appreciated !! )


	2. but fear his smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> schlatt gives quackity too much paperwork and not enough time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> karlnapity fluff towards the end; there's a good bit of angst in the beginning ! 
> 
> request was from my friend , who said he wanted to remain anonymous :)
> 
> warnings : abuse, panic attack (kinda?), slight food mention, fighting, blood, yelling  
> petnames : baby, love/loves
> 
> -title taken from "dear dictator" by saint motel

It was all so loud.

Yet at the same time, deafening.

He felt so small, so weak, so fragile.

Here he was, pushed into a corner (quite literally), hands covering his ears and his eyes squeezed shut, far too frightened - too scared to open them.

He regretted making eye contact as soon as he did so.

His smile was horrifying.

Schlatt had assigned Quackity with yet another tiring job. He'd handed him a large stack of paperwork, so heavy in fact, that he had had to make several trips, from Schlatt's office to his own, carrying the heavy loads of paperwork. The President had given him a deadline, saying the paperwork was due at the end of the day - sunset. Quackity hadn't taken a single break, in fact, not having eaten even a single bite of food, or even taking a break to go to the bathroom and relieve himself.

The man was stressed, to say the least.

In all the time that he'd served as Schlatt's right hand man, his vice, he'd never, ever, been given this amount of work to do.

And to make things worse, the sun was setting. The warm, pink and yellow sky cast a beautiful glow on Quackity's office floor, the outlines of the window visible in the shadow.

It would've been nice to be able to admire such a sight, but the Vice President felt as if he was on the edge of a panic attack. His whole body shook as he shakily tried to complete the last papers he had to do, though he knew deep down he wouldn't be able to. He had a large stack of paperwork to do still, and the sun was about to disappear on the horizon.

Time seemed to fly by, as a few minutes later his office door was thrown open, causing the latino man to yelp, followed by a violent, and terribly obvious flinch.

Schlatt scowled at the man, stomping over to him as the vice shook. Schlatt grabbed him by the shoulders and harshly threw him into the corner that resided to the left of his desk, the man falling on his bum as he fell out of his chair. Quackity indistinctively held up his arms in a feeble attempt to protect himself from what was coming. 

There was nothing.

He slowly uncovered his face, and immediately regretted it.

He locked eyes with the ram hybrid, who stared furiously at him, an expression on his face he'd never seen before.

Silence.

Not the comfortable type, yet not the uncomfortable type, either. The type where you're scared shitless, practically frozen in place, _fucking terrified._

Schlatt chuckled.

And then he laughed.

Very, very loudly.

"ONLY TWO FUCKING STACKS?!" he screamed, a look of disbelief and practically insanity on his face. Quackity felt the tears immediately, and no matter what he did, he couldn't stop them. They kept flowing.

"FOR FUCK'S SAKE, QUACKITY, I ASK YOU TO DO ONE SIMPLE FUCKING THING AND YOU CAN'T EVEN DO THAT!" The President yelled, kicking the man on the ground with all his strength, prompting a strained and obviously held back whimper. Schlatt laughed.

"God, you seriously are a waste of space, you can't do anything fucking right. I don't understand why I even trusted you to be my vice, my _FUCKING_ vice," another kick, "What was I thinking? Fuck, I don't know how you're still fucking alive. You should-"

"S-Stop," Quackity mumbled out, stuttering as he did so. 

It was a quiet and barely audible plea, begging for this torture to end. He didn't want to be here anymore, he didn't want this, he didn't want to be Vice President anymore, he didn't want to have to live everyday in fear, he didn't want to be scared at the mere _presence_ of his (what he once thought to be) lover, he didn't want to be so god damn scared _all the fucking time_ , he just wanted to be held, to be loved, to be showered with affection, something Schlatt never-

"What did you just say to me?" Schlatt whispered. And god, had Quackity never been more scared for his life than now. He made eye contact with the horned man, and...it was terrifying. The man was...fucking _insane_.

He saw a fist, and then his vision went dark.

He must've blacked out for a moment after the swift punch that Schlatt gave him, because the next thing he opens his eyes to is Schlatt on the ground, Sapnap towering over him and holding the President by the collar, his fist nearly inches away from Schlatt's face. The tanned boy grit his teeth, an expression of pure hatred on his face, while Schlatt wore a shit-eating smirk, thought there was a slight hint of fear in his eyes.

Quackity began to take in everything, as he came to his senses, feeling warmth surrounding him, as he realized that at some point Karl had taken the boy into his lap and held him close, sobbing softly and cradling his head as he rocked the pair back and forth. 

Quackity moved his aching arms to hug Karl back, though whined as Karl pulled away to look at his now awake boyfriend.

" _Q, why-_ " A sniffle, "Why didn't you tell us? Me, me and Sapnap, we would've-" 

"We should go, people are gonna get suspicious from all the yelling," Sapnap spoke, interrupting Karl. The brown haired boy sighed but nodded, struggling for a moment as he stood up, still holding Quackity close to him. Sapnap delivered a final punch to Schlatt's face, before letting him go, his head prompty hitting the ground. "Jeez Sapnap," Karl murmered, slightly surprised. Sapnap sighed, wiping a trickle of blood off his face, which had been spouting from his nose due to the lovely uppercut Schlatt had delivered. "I knocked him out, it'll at least give us time to get out of here." He said, before gesturing for them to leave. "Prick fuckin' deserved it anyway."

They arrived at Karl's house, maybe a half hour later. Quackity had insisted on walking, though he'd limped the entire walk there, which had slowed down their travel time by only a small amount.

Sapnap opened the door, Quackity and Karl following him inside, as Karl shut the door behind them. "Q, we're gonna need to clean you up, mkay?" Sapnap spoke softly, gently holding his hand, rubbing his thumb across the other's knuckles soothingly, while Karl nodded in agreement, eyebrows knitted together. Quackity seemed spaced out, far away from the present and what his boyfriend was telling him. He gave an unsure nod in returned, and Sapnap, with the help of Karl, led their boyfriend to the bathroom, sitting him up on the counter as Sapnap fetched the first aid.   
A few beats of silence passed before Quackity burst out into tears, which Karl, of course, hurriedly held onto him, cupping his cheeks and kissing his tears, peppering kisses all over his face and whispering sweet nothings in his ears. "Shhh, it's alright. It's okay, you're safe now. It's okay. You're safe. You're safe, baby. It's alright, let it out. You're safe. It's okay." The boy cooed, as Quackity continued to sob, but with a thankful heart, as he listened to Karl's soothing voice, letting himself fall apart completely.

Sapnap soon returned with the kit in hand, and after three rounds of crying and constant love and affection from both his boyfriends, Quackity was all bandaged up and taken care of.

He sniffled, eyes puffy red and tear stained cheeks, as Sapnap applied the last bandage to a scrape just above Quackity's jawline, before scooping him up in his arms and carrying him to the living room.

The latino boy didn't complain, only clinging to his boyfriend's white t-shirt as Karl followed them.

Sapnap gently sat Quackity down onto the couch, before sitting beside him and letting the latino snuggle into the side of his chest. 

Karl sat down on the opposite side, Quackity in the center, and wrapped an arm around the boy's waist, as he pulled multiple fluffy blankets over them. 

Sapnap gently held Quackity's chin with his thumb and pointer finger, making the latino look up at the tanned boy. They seemed to exchange a silent conversation before Quackity nodded, and Sapnap smiled as he was allowed to take off the boy's beanie. 

Karl smiled, leaning over and kissing the top of the, now beanie-less, boy's head, as Sapnap placed the beanie down on the opposite side of him. Sapnap focused his attention on finding a movie to watch, in hopes of distracting his boyfriend and maybe even help lull him to sleep. Meanwhile, Karl ran his fingers lazily through Quackity's hair, to which he received a small hum of approval.

"How does Aladdin sound, Q?" Sapnap spoke in a soft, gentle whisper, as he looked down at the boy snuggled into his chest. He seemed to smile wider, before nodding his head yes. Sapnap grinned, pecking a kiss to Quackity's forehead before clicking on the movie and letting it play. Aladdin was one of Quackity's favorite Disney movies, and he figured it would help improve the boy's mood, if only by a little.

About an hour in to the movie, Quackity had somehow managed to crawl all the way onto Sapnap's lap, and then passed out, pracitcally curled into a ball as he snuggled into Sapnap's chest, while Karl draped himself over Sapnap's shoulders, from his side, a small line of drool pouring out of his mouth. The dark brown-haired boy sighed lovingly, before kissing his boyfriends on the heads and whispering "goodnight, my loves." before promptly falling asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was my first ship fic, so please don't judge :'))) i hope u all liked it tho !! feel free to request more ideas <3


	3. liar.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tommy hasn't come out to his family yet. they think he's cis, for fuck's sake. how is he supposed to get reassurance when his dysphoria is at its worst?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Could you do something with like tommy being trans and has dysphoria and sbi helps somehow? like he is not out to them yet."  
> ty! :)" -guest
> 
> warnings ; tommy invalidates himself a bit in this one and has a good bit of negative thoughts (remember you are valid !!), dysphoria, fainting, repetition, misgendering (dw, tommy is the one misgendering himself because of dysphoria ! sbi would never), unsafe binding, a small adhd meltdown?
> 
> (also, written by a trans male)

_48 hours._

That's how long Tommy has had his binder on.

He couldn't take it off; his dysphoria had been quite intense over the past two days, and he did not want to be reminded of the fact that he was not biologically a boy.

_He wasn't a boy._

He was faking, he was lying. He lied to all his friends and fans everyday.

He was a liar.

He wasn't a boy, he didn't have boy parts, he didn't have a flat chest. His voice way too high (in his opinion), despite being on T for almost 3 years now. Fuck, he literally had to have a prescription to basically go through purberty. Male puberty, anyways. Still.

He wasn't born a boy, and Tommy wasn't even his _real name._

He was a complete fucking liar.

He must've spaced out, because he was pulled out of his trance by Philza, who was sitting on the couch across from where Tommy sat. They had two couches, one of which was larger, as Technoblade, Wilbur, and Philza sat on that one, while Tommy sat on the smaller couch, a 'loveseat', as they call it, in a slouched position. In a terrible attempt to make himself look nicer, he fixed his posture and sat up straight.

_You're showing off your chest too much. They can see the lumps, they can see-_

Tommy almost immediately slouched again. He knew they weren't even looking there (because duh, there was no reason to), but the dysphoric thoughts got the best of him. He looked over at Philza, who wore a soft smile as he seemed to be speaking. Tommy didn't hear him. He cleared his throat. "Ha- sorry, what?" He asked, voice cracking slightly.

God how he hated those fucking voice cracks.

Philza's face softened impossibly more as he repeated his question, for the probably third time. Tommy appreciated how patient Philza always was. "We got bored of the last movie we were watching, and you seemed spaced out so I assumed you weren't interested either. Any movie ideas?" 

Tommy paused, before his chest seemed like it suddenly fucking caved in on itself or some shit.

He coughed, reaching a hand up to hold his chest but keeping it where it was, by his side. They'd find out, they'd see right through him and they'd know. He didn't want them to know. He couldn't face the judgement and the discipline and the straight up _rejection_. 

"You alright, Tommy?" Wilbur spoke, brows furrowing as he watched the boy cough. Wilbur could always see if something was wrong, he was the only one out of the found family that could read people, could see _right through them_ so well.

Tommy nodded, before responding hoarsely. "The movie 'Up', maybe?" He suggested. Philza's smile faltered as he heard Tommy's voice. He sounded weak, he sounded _physically_ _hurt_.

"You sure you're alright, mate?" He asked, and Tommy nodded, stiffening as he felt that all too familiar feeling, as if his bones were about to crack. His ribs felt like they were collapsing, breaking. He inhaled shakily before he felt his vision become blurry. His breathing became heavy and he felt as if his oxygen was suddenly completely cut off. 

He stood, wobbling a bit as he did so before mumbling a weak excuse and rushing to the bathroom. He shakily put his hand on the doorknob, before he felt a hand on his shoulder. 

He turned to face the person. Wilbur.

"Tommy, what's wrong? Something's not right, I can tell. Are you hur-"

Tommy didn't get to reply as he leaned forward, loosing air faster than he thought was possible.

Tommy woke up, squinting open his eyes.

He must've blacked out, perhaps fainted, by the looks of it. 

He sat up, realizing someone must have brought him to his room, as he was laying on his bed. He still had his black hoodie on, but something was different.

He felt relaxed, which was odd. He wasn't in pain anymore and his breathing was fine and-

**_fuck._ **

His binder, his binder was gone he wasn't wearing his binder, who removed it from him, did they see anything, oh god oh fuck they're gonna yell at him they hate him they saw his chest they hate him fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-

"Tommy?" A soft voice spoke. Tommy looked up, spotting Wilbur in his gaming chair. He jumped, having not even seen his brother sitting there until now.

What should he say? Say it was a joke? No, that wouldn't be believable. Say the truth? Apologize? Ask if he saw anything? Ask how he knew? "Wil, how did you-"

"I didn't see anything, don't worry."

Tommy let out a small sigh of relief.

A pause.

"....Tommy how long were you wearing it?"

Tommy hesitated. Wilbur knew about binding, then? Fuck, that means he's going to get in trouble. More than that, because he probably is already, actually. He was lying, for Christ's sake, he'd been lying to his dad and his brothers and his friends and everyone and now they're all going to hate him and- "...Only a little bit," Tommy fibbed, refusing to look at his brother. 

He heard a disappointed sigh.

"Tommy, c'mon."

More silence.

"...like 2 days, I think."

No response.

Tommy finally looked over at Wilbur, only to be met with what some would call a regretful expression.

"Tommy, you know that's not safe-"

"Well I can't help it, Wilbur! I don't have a flat chest like you and taking it off feels like removing a mask that I've been using to cover up and hide my true identity! When I take it off I remember I'm not a guy and I never will be and I'm just a girl, just a stupid fucking girl!" Tommy yelled, hands shaking as they tangled in his hair and pulled.

Wilbur seemed speechless.

Tommy started to cry. He couldn't fucking control himself anymore, no, _herself_ , _she_ couldn't control _herself_ anymore because _she_ always bottled up _her_ feelings and _she_ never told anyone what was wrong and _she_ would never be a guy and _she_ was just a stupid little fucking _girl_.

Tommy was then enveloped in a hug, the warmth of Wilbur's body heat, his arms wrapped around Tommy making him tense, but quickly melt into the touch.

He hugged his brother back, sobbing. "I'm sorry Wilby, I'm so sorry-" He cried, voice breaking. 

"Shhh, shh. It's okay Toms. It's alright." He whispered as he gently rocked back and forth.

Philza and Techno stood outside of Tommy's room, waiting for Wilbur to tell them that they could come in.

Philza's heart broke as he listened to Tommy.

"I'm not a real-" Tommy sobbed. " _Fuck_ , I'm not a real boy, Wilbur,"

Wilbur pulled away to look at Tommy properly.

He cupped his brother's cheeks, wiping away the tears as Tommy started to slowly but surely calm down.

"All I see is my little brother." He whispered, eyebrows knitted together.

That sentence alone made Tommy almost burst out in tears again, before there was a soft knock on the door.

"Can we come in?" He heard Philza's voice from the other side. Wilbur turned to look at Tommy for an answer, and the blonde nodded nervously.

Once Wilbur told them they had permission to enter, the door softly creaked open, revealing his brother, Techno, and his father. Both stepped inside, walking over to Tommy and sitting down on his bed. Techno was never much for physical contact, and he was never good with comforting people. But he sat down beside Tommy, wrapping his arm around his brother and ruffling his hair. "Hey, big man." He said, smiling sadly at the boy. Philza sat beside Wilbur, that same soft expression from earlier still resting on his face. "Hey Toms." He said gently, tilting his head to the side.

Tommy sniffled, pulling away from Wilbur regretfully and wiping his eyes. "You're not mad?" He asked, voice weak and quiet.

Philza's eyebrows knitted, as he shook his head. "Of course not. This is you, and we accept you for who you are. This doesn't change anything." He reassured him.

"We'd be fools if we were angry about this, Tommy." Techno said, pulling Tommy close and giving him a noogie, to which Tommy laughed and playfully pulled out of.

"You're a man, Tommy." Wilbur said, once the blonde made eye contact with him once more. "You've always been one and you always will be. You're Tommy, big T, Toms, big man." Tommy laughed softly as his brother grinned at him. 

"M' sorry for...never telling you guys. I was scared..." He trailed off.

"It's alright, Tommy. You don't need to apologize for that, okay?" Philza said. 

Tommy sniffed, before he began to cry again.

Philza's eyes widened as he frantically tried to think of why his son was crying. "Did I say something wrong? I'm so sorry, I didn'-" Tommy laughed. "No, no, happy tears, dad. I-I'm happy," Tommy said quickly, wiping his eyes. Philza seemed to light up at the word 'dad', but he kept his mouth shut. The youngest leaned forward and hugged Wilbur, who, without hesitation, accepted the hug, gently holding the back of Tommy's head. Tommy cried into his shoulder; every muscle that had been tense only seconds ago was now beyond relaxed. He didn't think they'd be so...accepting, and, fuck, so _understanding_. He was so happy in that moment, all he could do was cling to Wilbur and cry.

He pulled away slightly, motioning for Philza to join in on the hug as well. The father happily complied, leaning in and hugging his two sons. "C'mon, Techno." Tommy said weakly, though a smile could be heard in his voice. Techno mentally cringed, but sighed as he let a small smile form on his lips as he leaned in and hugged his family. Tommy grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you all enjoyed !! feel free to leave requests !!! :)


	4. hold me in your arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> quackity is touch starved. every little thing leaves him craving for more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Hi!!!Could you write like some quackity and jschlatt fluff? like hurt/comofrt but like angsty? you could chose whatever the angstis pecifically over though!!!"   
> request from lilypad24/7
> 
> warnings ; quackity has breakdown (that's it though)  
> nicknames ; baby, love

Quackity doesn't recall the last time he was held.

He couldn't remember.

It was awful, being like this.

Touch starved.

He hated it.

Because every time he gets even a small second of close contact to someone, it leaves him craving more.

He can't ask for it though. He'll seem to desperate, he'll seem weak.

Not to mention the fact that, for some fucking reason, the person he wants to be held by the most is Schlatt.

Yeah, Schlatt, the alcoholic and temperamental president.

Yep.

So that's where he was. Right outside Schlatt's office, hand raised to the door with a shaky fist as he contemplated what would happen if he knocked on the door.

Would he be yelled at? Laughed at, if he even worked up the courage to make such a request as to just simply be held? Maybe told to go away, maybe given more paperwork to do?

After around 3 minutes of thinking over everything, he walked away.

Maybe now wasn't the time.

Besides, he was fine. He'd gone to Schlatt's door to request this _only 7 times._

Quackity decided to just go bother Badboyhalo, who was currently taking a stroll around ~~L'manberg~~ Manberg, doing nothing in perticular.

"Badboyhaloooo, you are my best...frieeend," Quackity sang in autotune, which prompted a small "aww" from Bad.

"I love you a fucking lottt," Quackity sang, before Bad yelled. "Language!"

Quackity laughed, continuing. "Bad doesn't like when I sweaaaRrr," His autotuned voice cracked slightly, to which he laughed at himself for. "Uhhh, freestyle, fuck yo shit up motherfuc-"

"LANGUAGE!"

Quackity burst out laughing, barely holding himself together as he continued again. "Motherfucker shit bitch-"

"QUACKITY!" Bad yelled, before grabbing Quackity's hands and squeezing them softly.

"Stop swearing, you muffinhead! It's not funny." Bad scolded.

Quackity just froze, trying to remain calm.

Bad was holding his hands.

He was holding his hands, and it felt so fucking nice. 

He felt full inside, like a puzzle piece had finally been put in place to complete the puzzle.

He wanted more of this. He wanted someone to hold hands with whenever he wanted, he wanted someone to cuddle with and to hug and hold him and pet his hair and hold him while he sleeps and-

The moment was over as soon as it came.

Bad let go of Quackity's hands, eyebrows knitting together slightly. "You okay?" He asked.

Quackity pulled himself out of his spaced out state, before putting on a fake smile and nodding.

"I'm fine Bad, fuck off." He said playfully, which resulted in another loud "LANGUAGE!!"

It was the next day, and Quackity was hanging out with Karl.

Karl insisted on having a movie night with his friend, to which Quackity, of course, could never refuse.

They'd both agreed on watching Wall-e, as it was Karl's favorite Disney movie. 

Known to most people, Karl was a clingy person. His love language was touch, so of course he was practically draped over Quackity.

Quackity was enjoying this, his friend being cuddled up against him. Even if it wasn't Schlatt, it still felt nice. He knew it wasn't enough, not enough to fill the empty hole inside him, but it was enough for now at least. 

About an hour into the movie, Karl readjusted himself, sitting up on the couch and leaning against the arm rest as he motioned for Quackity to come over to him.

Hesitation was obvious on the latino's face, but Karl's reassuring smile comforted him, before he slowly crawled over to him and laid down in his lap, head against his chest. 

Karl grinned, before turning his head to focus on watching the movie again.

_Was it that simple?_

He was back at Schlatt's door again.

It was simple, right?

_Just ask._

But he couldn't.

What if he got mad at Quackity? He didn't want to be yelled at. He didn't like getting yelled at.

He felt so alone.

So, so alone.

He didn't want to be alone.

This was driving him fucking insane.

What if Schlatt hated him after this?

And with a single thought, Quackity broke down right there. 

He was sobbing, tears pouring from his eyes and down his cheeks and staining his jacket as he tried to compose himself, only worsening things as it made him cry even harder.

He didn't even try to hold back his sobs, he couldn't if he wanted to.

Loud hiccups and sniffles echoed throughout the hallway as the man fell to the ground, knees to his chest and hands in his hair, not even caring that his beanie had fallen off as he tugged on his hair, gritting his teeth as he sobbed.

The door in front of him opened, but he couldn't see due to his vision being blurry, much less hear it over his own sobs.

"Hey, hey..." Quackity felt a hand on his shoulder. But he didn't want to look up. He could tell from the smell and the voice, he knew it was Schlatt, he knew he was going to be so pissed at him, he knew Schlatt would hate him, he-

"I'm not mad at you." The President whispered.

"...if that's what you're thinking, I...I'm not like, mad..." Schlatt seemed awkward. He didn't have much experience with helping people with emotional problems.

Quackity slowly looked up to meet Schlatt's gaze.

The man was a mess, to say the least. His eyes were puffy and red and watery, as tears still streamed down his tear stained cheeks, dropping onto his very tear-stained jacket. His hair was a mess, his eyes had dark circles under them and he had a bit of a runny nose.

Schlatt's expression softened even further, which the other male had never thought to be possible.

"Hey, Q." He spoke softly, hand moving off the other's shoulder and letting both his hands cup the latino's cheeks, wiping the tears with his thumbs.

"What's wrong, baby?" 

Quackity sniffled. "Y-You'll be m-mad, it's nothing-" He sniffled, breathing shakily as he tried to calm himself down.

Schlatt sighed, before gently picking up the boy, holding him close to his chest as the other shook, still sobbing. Quackity practically clung to the man as he carefully walked back into his office, closing the door behind him. He walked over to the room that was off to the side, Schlatt's bedroom.

He lived there, where else did you think he was sleeping?

Schlatt walked over to the bed, sitting down as he pulled Quackity away from him, getting a good look at the other's face as he was still sobbing.

"Hey, baby, can you blow on my face?" Schlatt asked softly, tilting his head to the side slightly. 

Quackity gave him an odd look, shaking still as he nodded slowly (the man was still the President, no matter the order he gave Quackity, he would do it, being Vice and all).

The male inhaled, before softly blowing on Schlatt's face. The President smiled, "okay, again?" The latino repeated his actions.

This continued for around a minute before Schlatt leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Quackity's head. The teary-eyed man hadn't even realized that that had been a tactic to get him to steady his breathing and help him calm down. 

Huh.

Maybe Schlatt would be more understanding than he thought.

"You did so well, Q." Schlatt whispered, combing his fingers through Quackity's hair, to which the other almost immediately leaned into.

Schlatt seemed to pick up on that, but didn't say anything just yet.

Quackity sniffled, rubbing his eyes. "M'...I just...touch st...m..."

"Touch starved?" Schlatt asked quietly. It seemed Quackity was embarrassed.

The other man nodded shyly.

"Oh, love, why didn't you just tell me, hm?" Schlatt pushed a few strands of hair out of Quackity's face.

Quackity frowned, eyebrows furrowing as he looked away. "I thought you'd yell at me..." He replied. 

It was now Schlatt's turn to frown, as he knew he would never do such a thing...at least, when this was the issue. "Of course not baby. I would never." He said, now holding Quackity's hips, massaging them gently.

"It's almost bedtime, how about we watch a movie and then go to bed, hm?" Schlatt suggested.

Quackity seemed to think it over before nodding. Schlatt smiled.

"Alright, I'll go get some more blankets for us. You find a movie for us, okay?" Quackity nodded, climbing off of Schlatt's lap before the President disappeared into another room. Quackity grabbed the remote and turned on the bedroom TV, scrolling through Netflix before finding some shitty romcom.

Schlatt soon returned, having changed into a white tshirt and gray sweatpants, chuckling as he looked at the title of the movie and then description. "Romcom? Really?" He asked jokingly. Quackity sniffled, before laughing.

"Yeah, it looks dumb." He mumbled, before making grabby hands to Schlatt. The man sighed, before climbing into bed and pulling the covers over both of them.

Quackity snuggled into Schlatt's lap, draping himself over the other as he layed on his chest, sprawled out on top of the man.

Schlatt chuckled, getting comfortable before wrapping his arms around Quackity's waist and holding him close, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to Quackity's neck. The latino whined, before burying his face into Schlatt's chest further. 

Schlatt sighed, kissing the top of the other male's head before whispering a soft "goodnight, baby."

"mm...g'night." Quackity mumbled against Schlatt's chest. "...I love you."

Schlatt smiled. "I love you too."

The movie seemed to end quickly, Schlatt barely staying awake as the credits rolled across the screen. He stretched, groaning before reaching for the remote and turning off the TV. Schlatt carefully repositioned himself, laying down while now spooning Quackity. 

He studied the other's face, his soft features and his pink nose and mouth open slightly, chuckling at the small amount of drool coming out of his mouth. 

Schlatt wiped it away with his thumb, before kissing Quackity's cheek and pulling him closer. 

The President soon fell asleep, his Vice comfortably cuddled up in his lap.

_So much for movie night._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you all enjoyed! i havent been getting many requests lately, so please don't hesitate to leave a request in the comments! :)


	5. creature comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> quackity is trans male.  
> as far as everyone else knows, he's cis.  
> what happens if he binds improperly for too long?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "do you think you could write more schlackity hurt/comfort with trans Q being afraid to come out to schlatt and schlatt finding out and being incredibly accepting? like, maybe Q was binding improperly and after finding out schlatt starts buying him actually good binders? honestly i'll take any fluff i can get from this ship :') thanks so much if you decide to write this but don't feel pressured to !!"  
> request from joji_is_trash 
> 
> warnings ; cancer mention, repetitivity, fainting/blacking out (kinda), dysphoria (also kinda), unsafe binding  
> nicknames ; baby, mi amor/my love
> 
> title taken from the song creature comfort by arcade fire (tw ; the song mentions sh, suicide, pills)

"Quackity as my Vice, you shouldn't be second-guessing orders."

Schlatt had asked Quackity to run an errand. Quite literally, actually. Well, more so...walk, but still.

He wanted the man to walk all the way to Pogtopia, to meet up with Wilbur and deliver an important message. 

Which, now as he thought it over, wasn't as far away as others might view it as, but Quackity's ribs had been killing him all day, and he thought any amount of exercise even in the slightest might just kill him. 

He'd been coughing nonstop all day, having to stop himself and take a moment, or, take a breather, as one could say, so he wouldn't flat out loose consciousness from the lack of air he was receiving. 

He'd been binding for 2 weeks.

14 days.

336 hours.

20,160 minutes.

More than he should be, obviously.

Some people couldn't last that long. Some people could last longer. Quackity assumed it was based on endurance.

...He didn't think he could last much longer. 

But given the lack of motivation to do anything, along with the dysphoric thoughts that he'd tried so hard to tuck into the back of his mind, he couldn't take the bandages off.

He couldn't.

Even if he did...what would he wear then?

A bra?

No.

Too obvious, and he'd tried it before in private and the dysphoric mental breakdown that followed was... _horrid_ , to say the least.

And it's not like he could just order a binder.

He wasn't fucking loaded or anything, he didn't have enough money for that.

He'd been wearing bandages for god knows how long.

He knew it wasn't healthy, but he couldn't help it.

There was no other option.

_Unless?_

No, asking Schlatt would...that wouldn't go well.

Not a good idea.

Nope.

"Quackity?"

The latino was pulled out of his thoughts by a hand on his shoulder, that of which belonging to Schlatt.

The man flinched, not even having noticed Schlatt approach him. He'd been spaced out, which had begun to happen a bit too much.

Quackity blamed it on the lack of air.

"Quackity, what the hell? You've been spacing out and shit so much, and you seem like you have cancer or some shit, you're coughing a shit ton everyday, and-"

"I'm fine, Schlatt. Just..." Quackity inhaled, a desperate attempt to get more air in his lungs. "Just thinking." He exhaled loudly.

Schlatt furrowed his brows. "About what?"

Quackity pursed his lips. "Uh...Pogtopia. I just...don't...wanna...go?" Quackity fibbed, though it ended up sounding as more of a question, his tone unsure.

Schlatt sighed. "Well you have to. S' just business." He said with a hum, before strolling over to his desk and picking up a bright orange envelope. He walked back over to Quackity and handed his Vice the envelope.

"Give this to Wilbur, then come back, mkay? I wanna have a night to ourselves." Schlatt said in a much softer tone, kissing Quackity's forehead. 

The beanie-wearing man smiled slightly and nodded, forcing himself to just go along with it as he walked out of the office, shutting the door behind him quietly.

Another deep breath in.

Was this a good idea? 

Probably not.

Fuck it.

Quackity exhaled shakily, before pushing himself away from the door, envelope in hand, as he made his way over to Pogtopia.

It hadn't even been a minute yet, and Quackity felt as if someone had been cutting off his air completely. 

He was struggling to breathe, back hunched ( _the typical trans male posture, of course_ ) as his hand held his chest as he grit his teeth, clenching the envelope in his hand as he struggled to walk along the Prime Path.

Once under the small stone tunnel, he had to lean against the cold stone wall to catch his breath. 

His vision was spotty and he couldn't breathe.

Jesus christ, _he couldn't fucking breathe._

His oxygen was seemingly cut off completely and he had to squeeze his eyes shut.

"Quackity? What happened man?" He heard someone, and he had to force his eyes open to see the person.

Ponk was standing before him, eyebrows knitted together worriedly as he held his communicator in his hand.

"Uh- I'm gonna message Schlatt, okay? Fuck I don't know what to do..." Ponk mumbled as he frantically typed in something on his communicator.

Quackity wanted to protest, he wanted to stop the man and tell him no, yell at him, take the communicator from him, but he couldn't. 

He was afraid of what would happen if he even talked. He didn't want to waste the small amount of oxygen he had.

Time was an illusion at this point. 

He didn't know what was going on, who was around him, who was talking and who was picking him up and carrying him.

He just knew that whoever was holding him was scared for him, because they were running somewhere and whispering shaky words of reassurance as the person clung to him desperately.

Everything felt so weird, like a dream, because the next thing he knows, he's laying down on a bed, his uncomfortable black jacket and white button up is being tugged off him frantically, and he can finally breathe as his bandages are ripped off him.

His bandages?

 **Wait**.

His eyes shot open to see himself fully exposed from his hips upward, his chest completely on display and Schlatt wide-eyed and quickly looking away at the last second.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck Schlatt hates him he hates him he's gonna yell at him and he hates him he fucking hates him he hates him he hates him he hates him he hates him he hates him he hates him he hates him he hates him he hates him he hates him he hates him he hates him he hates him he hates him he hates him he hates him he hates him-

There's a blanket being wrapped around him, and a hand on his back as he's slowly guided to sit upwards.

And then a hand on his cheek; a thumb slowly and gently wiping away the tears that Quackity had failed to notice were even there.

"Schlatt...?" He sobbed, voice breaking.

"Hey baby," Schlatt replied, barely audible as he chuckled sadly.

Quackity was quiet, lip trembling as he looked at Schlatt, searching his face for any sort of queue as to what the man was feeling.

Nothing.

He couldn't pick up anything.

That scared him more, actually.

"Are you mad?" Quackity's voice cracked, as he choked back a sob.

Schlatt's brows almost immediately furrowed, and he shook his head.

" _Of course not_ , mi amor. You're a boy, right? You always will be. My sweet, cute, stupid boyfriend" He said, a smile on his face as he caressed Quackity's cupped cheeks with both hands now.

Quackity practically burst out sobbing on the spot.

Schlatt quickly held the back of the boy's head, cradling it as he let Quackity lean into his chest, staining Schlatt's suit with his tears as he balled his fists and gripped tightly onto the man's jacket, sobbing loudly.

Schlatt began to soothingly rock back and forth, tracing shapes and random letters on the latino's back with his free hand. 

"Shhh, it's alright, mi amor. You're safe, it's okay." Schlatt whispered, kissing the top of the boy's beanie-covered head.

Quackity let out everything. He didn't think Schlatt would be so... _accepting_. It's like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

A few moments passed, and Quackity was now a sniffling, teary-eyed mess in Schlatt's arms, as he was slowly but surely calming down.

"How're you feeling, baby?" Schlatt whispered, kissing the top of Quackity's head once more.

"Better..." Quackity mumbled, sniffling as snot dripped from his now stuffy nose.

Schlatt hummed.

It was quiet.

But more so...a comfortable silence. It wasn't weird or uncomfortable or tense, it was relaxing, calm, and cozy.

Schlatt was the first to interrupt the tender moment.

"...I think it's about time you got a binder, hm?" Schlatt said with a soft gaze as he looked down at his boyfriend.

Quackity looked up, revealing the mess he was as he locked eyes with the President.

" _Wh...what?_ " The younger stuttered out, obviously taken aback by the question, or more so, statement.

Schlatt smiled, and _god_ if Quackity didn't just melt right then and there into Schlatt's arms.

"You should get a binder, Q."

Quackity sniffled, looking down as he broke the eye contact he'd been holding with the male.

"I...can't. I don't have enough-"

"Money? I'll pay, don't worry." 

Quackity's eyes widened as he looked up at Schlatt.

"Schlatt, no-"

"It's alright, baby. I'm the President, remember?" He said with a chuckle. "I have enough money to spend."

Quackity was quiet. "...but-"

"No buts." Schlatt hummed, as he gently held Quackity's chin with his thumb and index finger and raised it, gazing down at the other male with the most gentle and kind expression Quackity had ever seen.

"My boyfriend deserves proper care, does he not?" Schlatt said, pressing a soft and warm kiss to Quackity's lips.

Yeah, Quackity did start crying again. /pos

Bonus !!

Quackity bit his lip as he waited anxiously inside the bathroom.

They'd done the proper measurements, and they'd ordered a binder of his correct skin tone.

Still, he was nervous.

_What if it was too tight? What if it didn't match his skin color? Would it be too obvious then? What if it was a shitty binder, and it didn't hide anything? No, that was impossible, Schlatt had ordered from something called gcb2? (Was that the name?) Anyways he said they had the best binders there, so surely...? But still, what if everyone found out? It would be too obvious, and, and-_

A soft knock on the door echoed throughout the small bathroom.

Quackity was shaken out of his thoughts.

The man wore a loose and baggy white tshirt, accompanied by a pair of black sweatpants, those of which reached past his ankles and dragged along the floor.

He walked over to the door, slowly opening it as he peaked his head out.

Schlatt stood on the other side, wearing his classic work suit. 

He was President, after all, was he not?

Schlatt held up a piece of cloth, that of which matched Quackity's skin tone nicely. It was shaped like any typical bra, but there was no visible padding, and it came up further on the chest than any typical bra.

It was a binder, no shit.

Schlatt smiled softly at the nervous male, extending his arm outwards as Quackity hesitantly took the binder in his own hand.

Quackity stared at Schlatt, as they had a small and meaningful conversation with their eyes, before Quackity closed the door.

He removed his tshirt, making sure to not look in the mirror as he did so. 

He slipped the binder on over his head, before putting his shirt back on over it and _holy motherfucking shit_.

He was flat, his chest was completely and entirely flat.

Quackity just stared at himself in the mirror, shoulder facing it as he tried to get a side view of his proportions. 

_Holy fuck._

He was flat, you couldn't even see the binder straps and _oh my fucking god_ he had a flat chest.

You couldn't even see the material under his shirt! He looked like he had a naturally flat chest! There were no lumps that were noticable, even if you took a better look at his chest. There was nothing! It was so much better than the bandages, and it was comfortable too! It didn't hurt at all!

Quackity grinned widely, before practically shoving open his door and presenting himself to the President excitedly.

"I'm flat, holy fuck Schlatt it's flat you can't even see them _oh my god_ ," Quackity let out an exasperated laugh.

Schlatt grinned as he watched Quackity.

He was so happy.

That's all Schlatt needed. His boyfriend to be happy.

Quackity looked up at Schlatt, biting his lip as tears welled in his eyes.

Schlatt's brows immediately furrowed as he worriedly walked over to Quackity and wrapped his arms around the latino's hips.

"Are you alright, baby? What's wrong?" Schlatt asked worriedly.

Quackity sniffled, wiping his eyes hurriedly. "It's, I just..."

The man threw his arms around the taller, burying his face in the crook of the man's neck.

"Thank you." Quackity whispered weakly.

Schlatt smiled, kissing the side of his boyfriend's head.

" _You're welcome, mi amor_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for anyone wondering, gc2b is the actual site name for the binders !! although i havent ordered any of their items, ive heard they are by far some of the best binders you can get !! :)
> 
> also id like to think that schlatt later called up nihachu (often portrayed as lmanberg/manberg's doctor) and asked if there are any surgical doctors nearby that knew about top surgery :)


	6. soldier, poet, king.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tommy had finally been adopted, after years of being in the foster care system. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "If you have the time and are comfortable, could you maybe write something with Tommy coming from an abusive household and being adopted by Phil? I just want some sweet SBI adoption hurt/comfort."  
> request from ThatIsNotAMistakeWellBeMaking 
> 
> i tried my best to research and understand how foster care/adoption works,, i apologize if any of this is inaccurate :')
> 
> to explain tommy's behaviors ; "Approximately one in four children in foster care will show signs of post-traumatic stress disorder. Children who have experienced trauma — especially ongoing trauma— may have developed unhealthy habits and behaviors, including increased aggression and distrusting or disobeying adults."
> 
> { also, this is strictly platonic !! dont be gross. }
> 
> warnings ; references to past abuse, nightmares, phyical and mental abuse, food, not eating (not starvation though !!)
> 
> title taken from the song soldier, poet, king by the oh hellos :]

Tommy gazed out the window, watching at the cars passed him by. He fidgeted with his hands nervously, biting his lip.

He'd finally been adopted, after years of being in the foster care system. 

He hadn't met his new family (that word feels so weird to use, Tommy thought) yet, and all he knew was that it was a single dad with two sons.

Two sons. He wasn't informed of their ages, nor anything else about them, which of course left more room to Tommy's (often scary) imagination. 

Maybe they were the typical bullies? Or perhaps one was quiet, but his looks could kill, and the other one was loud and frightening? Or maybe they both were loud?

And what about the father? Was he the type to sit back and let that happen, or would he step in and stand up for Tommy?

No, that's stupid. Stupid.

No one would do such a thing for Tommy.

Of course, there was always the chance that the father was awful, too. Maybe he was more on the emotionally abusive side? Of course, he could possibly be physically abusive too.

Maybe both?

The boy shook his head, trying his best to ward off his anxious thoughts as he noticed that the car he was in was now pulling up to a house.

His caregiver turned to look back at the boy from where she sat in the driver's seat, smiling softly at the blonde.

Tommy stopped fidgeting, sitting on his hands to hide just how nervous and scared he was.

Even if his caregiver never hurt him or showed any signs of abusive behavior, he would still react the same.

Years of abuse made the boy think that everyone was out to get him.

Nihachu softly waved her hand to get his attention, as Tommy hadn't responded to her. "Tommy?"

"S-Sorry, what?" He spoke, internally cursing his stutter.

Nihachu smiled gently. "You ready to go in and meet them?" She asked. "Or do you want to wait a moment? You can take your time, Tommy." She reassured him.

Tommy thought for a moment. "...we can go now." He said quietly, before reaching to the seat beside him and grabbing his trash bag filled with all his belongings.

Niki nodded, before unbuckling her seatbelt and getting out of the car. She opened up Tommy's door, waiting patiently for him.

Tommy stepped out, closing the car door behind him before turning to face the house.

It was a lovely house, as Tommy observed. It was the typical Nottingham house, built with different shades of red bricks. It looked like it was three storeys, the bottom, or first floor having four windows, two on each side as the front door was in the center. The other two floors each had five windows, all together giving it a total of fourteen, though that was only from the front view. It had black gates in the front, which reminded him somewhat of his previous residence (which wasn't a good thing, as the thought sent a shiver up his spine). Two trees, accompanied by bushes, stood tall behind the fence, one tree on either side of the small front yard. 

"Ready?" Niki spoke softly as she watched Tommy study the house.

Tommy swallowed nervously and nodded, as he followed Nihachu to the front door.

His caregiver knocked gently on the great wooden door, Tommy a few inches behind her. He looked like a child hiding behind their parent.

A few moments passed before the door opened to reveal a boy with dark brown curly hair that fell to the side, a piece of bread in his hand with a bite in it, obvious that the boy was eating it as he was chewing something. He wore a black, green, and white Hilfiger sweater and black jeans, making Tommy feel quite shabby and underdressed, as he simply wore what little he had, a loose dark green tshirt and khakis.

The boy stood there for a moment, simply eating the slice of bread in his hand before turning and shouting, "Phiilll!"

Not even five seconds later, a man with (slightly long) blonde hair came into view, eyebrows furrowed before his eyes landed on Tommy, immediately lighting up as he spotted the boy. 

"Hello, you must be Thomas?" The man, Phil, asked, as he gestured for the pair to step inside.

Tommy only nodded, quiet as ever as Nihachu led him inside, the brown haired boy closing the door behind them and walking off into what looked to be the kitchen.

Phil watched as the boy walked off, sighing and looking back to Tommy. "That was Wilbur, don't worry he's usually like that." The man said. Tommy wasn't sure exactly what that meant, but he just nodded again. 

The blonde man turned to Niki, "Right!" He clapped his hands, and Tommy had to hold back a flinch at the noise. "So, you've got the paperwork then?" He asked, and the woman nodded, reaching into her small shoulder bag and pulling out some papers.

Phil smiled, before turning back to Tommy. "Uh, I suppose you'd probably like to get comfortable, huh? While we sort things out, you can get adjusted, your room is upstairs and to the left." The man said with a kind smile.

Tommy just nodded again, before hesitantly walking off and following Phil's directions to his room. 

It was plain, to say the least. Two wooden shelves on the wall, in between the two windows in his room. A bed with red and white sheets. A desk and chair, and a dresser. 

Tommy sighed as he put his stuff down, not even bothering to unpack. He'd be kicked out soon enough, they'd get tired of him and he'd be sent back to stay with Niki or some other family.

He heard a crash from the room opposite of his, and jumped, head flicking upwards to the door as his immediate first thought was danger.

Shuffling and clattering of objects was heard before the door opened, to reveal and boy with long pink hair, and Tommy guessed he was a few years older than him. 

The boy wore a soft red sweater and white jeans, multiple silver bracelets, and a necklace with a small crown symbol on it.

The boy ran his hands through his hair, seemingly stressed, before looking up as his eyes finally landed on Tommy. 

The boy raised a brow, before nodding his head as if to greet the other.

Tommy nodded back.

And that was the end of that.

Tommy had been left alone the whole evening, up until dinner time. He figured either the others didn't want to be around him, or Phil had made the two boys keep their distance as to give Tommy some space to adjust.

Tommy thought that the former was the most reasonable.

There was a knock on his door, that of which he left open, as his other homes didn't like it went he shut his door, much less locked it. They told him he was a teenager, and there was no need for privacy.

The boy from earlier was at the door, Pink Hair. He figured he'd call the other that until he learned of his real name. 

The boy leaned against the door frame, tilting his head to the side as a soft crack was heard, before his head turned to its original position. 

"Dinner." The boy said, and those were the first words Tommy had heard from the boy.

"I'm not hungry." Tommy replied, looking away, as a sudden burst of anger flared up inside him.

"You're not going to eat?" The other asked, and Tommy's brows furrowed as he pursed his lips.

"No, now can you please fuck off? Leave me alone." The blonde said sternly.

The other was still for a moment, and Tommy felt his mouth become dry. Fuck, he was gonna get yelled at, or hit, something like that, right? Surely, I mean...that kind of behavior was unforgivable...fuck, he fucked up bad, fuck fuck fuck.

Tommy squeezed his eyes shut and balled up his fists and he looked down, bracing himself for the worst. 

He heard footsteps, and when Tommy opened his eyes, the boy was gone.

It was 9pm now, and Tommy had just been in his room, watching the sunset outside his window.

Yet again there was another knock on his door.

Tommy's head quickly turned, and spotted Phil standing in the doorway, a small plate of what looked to be spaghetti in his hands.

"Hey, I just wanted to bring up some leftovers-"

"I'm not hungry." He spoke harshly, turning to look back out the window. 

Phil audibly sighed. "Alright, well...I'll put it in the fridge, you can come downstairs at any time if you get hungry. M' probably gonna hit the hay soon, same for Wilbur and Techno."

Tommy raised his eyebrows. "Pink hair?" He asked, immediately regretting it as he realized that calling the man's son a dumb nickname probably wasn't the best approach, and braced himself yet again for yelling, or a slap or hit or _something_.

Phil laughed.

He _laughed_?

"Yeah, Pink hair. His name is Technoblade, we call him Techno for short." The man explained with a small smile.

This is weird, this was all weird. 

Tommy just nodded slightly in reply, trying to process the fact that the man literally _laughed_ , and he didn't get hit or _anything_.

Phil sighed, before tapping on the door frame and pushing himself off of it. "Alright, well...goodnight. See you tomorrow?"

Tommy didn't reply, mostly lost in his own thoughts.

Phil smiled kindly, before walking away, even closing Tommy's door behind him.

Tommy was still trying to process things.

Tommy was hungry, tired, and on edge.

All of which were self explanatory.

Around 1am he decided it was probably best if he went to bed, now peeling his eyes away from the window and walking over to his bag and digging through it, before pulling out a loose white tshirt and loose night pants, which dragged on the floor as they were far too long for him, and he constantly had to pull up as they would often slip down past his waist. 99% of his clothes were hand me downs from other houses, so.

He eventually crawled into bed, watching the clock on his nightstand as he drifted off to sleep.

He was back at his previous home.

The woman that had taken him in was yelling and screaming at him, shouting in his face as he sobbed, whimpering as he was repeatedly hit and kicked.

His side hurt, his legs hurt, his head hurt. Everything hurt.

The woman slowly morphed into Phil, and Tommy watched in horror as the man cackled at the boy's misfortune as he continued to kick him, and eventually Wilbur and Techno joined in, kicking and hitting and yelling and taunting and-

Tommy woke up with a loud, choked sob, sitting up in his bed frantically, tears streaming down his face. 

A few seconds passed and Tommy's door opened to reveal a disheveled, panicked Wilbur.

Tommy hiccuped, quickly hiding his face in his knees as he brought them up to his chest.

A moment passed, and the only sound filling the room was Tommy's sniffles and choked sobs.

And then there was a hand on his back, gentle and soothing, and before he knew it he was enveloped in a warm and kind hug, and he wasn't sure what to do with himself as he kept crying, shoulders tense as he tried to comprehend if he was in trouble or not.

And then there was a hand in his hair, combing through his blonde locks.

A voice, shushing him and whispered reaffirming words in his ear.

Wilbur swayed back and forth, gently rocking the boy in his arms as you would a small child.

Tommy didn't know what to do, really. How was he not in trouble? He'd obviously woken up Wilbur, and most likely everyone else.

Why wasn't he in trouble? 

Why was Wilbur comforting him, instead of hitting him or yelling at him?

"I'm sorry." Tommy blurted out as he was beginning to calm down, sniffling softly.

Wilbur pulled away to look at Tommy. "You don't need to apologize, man. It's alright." He whispered, a small smile on his face.

Wilbur knew it was probably awkward for the other. It was his first day at their house and they weren't even that close yet.

But Wilbur couldn't help himself. He remembered the first nights, when he would have night terrors, and Techno came to his rescue, hugging hugging him and comforting him and letting him cry it out, let everything out.

He remembered how Techno always let the brown-haired boy fall asleep in his arms, tiring himself out. He remembered how his brother would cuddle with him when he felt lonely or clingy or straight up _depressed_.

He remembered how Techno was always there for him.

So it was his turn, right?

He wanted to be there for his younger brother.

Tommy looked away. "Still, it's my first day and I'm already bothering you-"

"Whas' goin' on?" A grogy, scratchy voice spoke, and both boys turned to look over to the door.

There was Techno, who looked as tired as ever, probably just wanting to go back to bed, but obviously not upset.

"Uh," Wilbur hesitated, thinking over if Tommy would be comfortable with sharing exactly what happened.

"Nightmare." Tommy spoke softly, his voice hardly audible.

Techno nodded, rubbing his eyes sleepily before trudging over to the bed and laying down next to Wilbur, who smiled down at him.

"...You're not mad?" Tommy spoke up, mostly talking to both of the boys.

Techno raised a brow, confused, and Wilbur's expression softened.

"Of course not." The taller boy said, and Techno nodded in agreement.

"I used to have to comfort this crybaby every night," Techno said, reaching a hand up and flicking Wilbur's cheek, to which the other boy pretended to be insulted by. "Hey!" He said, playfully shoving the pink-haired boy.

Techno smiled slightly before curling up, as if he was about to fall asleep right then and there.

Tommy smiled, before looking away again.

Wilbur sighed. "We don't have to if you don't want to, cause I know it's still your first day and all, but...cuddle pile?" He asked, and Techno grumbled, all in favor of a cuddle pile.

Tommy perked up, seeming to contemplate it for a moment before nodding shyly, and Wilbur smiled.

Tommy laid on Techno's chest as the pink-haired boy laid down, and Wilbur cuddled into his older brother's side.

Tommy fell asleep first, obviously. He'd tired himself out, Wilbur could tell.

Wilbur fell asleep next, snoring softly as drool slipped down his mouth and chin, that of which Techno was mostly used to by now.

The oldest fell asleep last, buried in a pile of blankets with both his brothers holding him close.

Morning came, and Phil was surprised when Techno didn't show up for their usual 8am coffee in the kitchen.

The father waved it off as his son being sleep deprived, but when Wilbur didn't come downstairs at 9:30am like usual, he grew concerned.

He checked Techno's room, finding it odd that the boy was nowhere to be found in his room.

He checked Wilbur's next, and panic began to build up inside him as he ran to check Tommy's room last, stopping in his tracks at the scene before him.

He wasn't sure if it was the original positions or not, since he knew Wilbur usually moved around quite a bit in his sleep.

Techno was holding Tommy close, spooking him from behind while the blonde cuddled into Wilbur, who also spooned him.

It was fucking adorable.

And yeah, so what if Phil took a picture to tease them about later?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you all liked this one !! so sorry for the inactivity, honestly i completely forgot that i hadn't updated yet, so i apologize !!
> 
> also, sorry if this feels rushed - i knew i wouldnt have motivation to do a second part, but i didnt wanna do any time skips, so sorry if the relationship/bond feels rushed :[


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